


Sons and Daughters of Glacia

by aliasmajik



Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Glacia - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 01:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13112889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliasmajik/pseuds/aliasmajik
Summary: "The Queen of Glacia is dead."If Karla had died instead of Morton. The Sons and Daughters of Glacia attempt to defend and rebuild the homeland that they so desperately love as war with Terreille looms on the horizon.





	Sons and Daughters of Glacia

“The Queen of Glacia is dead.” The announcement spread over Glacia faster than spring came to the frozen mountains. Every Queen and every Warlord Prince knew before dusk. The uprising in the capital city sputtered out with the death of the Queen. Whomever had been responsible, they were smart enough to withdraw and hide their heads for the time being. 

“The Lady’s Steward died in the fighting.” The information added. “Lord Morton is missing, but not presumed dead. Prince Teagan, the Lady’s Master of the Guard, holds the Queen’s estate home for the time being. Until such time as order can be restored.” This information would suffice as all of the information available. 

Prince Teagan set the manor home up as a fortress. Those suspected of collusion with the bitch Ulka were executed on the spot for treason against the Queen of Glacia. Then, finally in private, soaking the battle from his bones he cried for the Queen he had loved better than he’d loved his own sister. 

Tomorrow he would write a letter and send it to the Hall in Dhemlan. The residents there would know how to find Morton. They were the only two pillars left of the Queen’s Court. Tonight he would drink and he would do his best to honor the memory of the best Queen he’d ever met.

\- - - 

Morton had been taken to Scelt to be healed, but for his convalescence his Queen had ordered him to the Hall in Dhemlan. He chafed at the order but it had only taken a sidelong comment from his honorary uncle to remind him that the order was not, in fact, a suggestion. 

A letter arrived from Teagan. The fighting had died down, but he wasn’t foolish enough to think that the quiet would last. A fire had been ignited and though they didn’t know the source, they could see the wildfire on the horizon. 

He had always liked Karla’s Master of the Guard. The man was fiercely loyal to his cousin and his aristo upbringing had not tainted his view of Glacia. They had bonded many a night over cups of ice cold mead.. Sons of Glacia, they had called themselves. True Sons. Karla had teased them in her way when they’d shown up for breakfast with raging hangovers, but Morton could tell she was always secretly pleased that they got along so well.

The pang felt so distant. He knew the theory of how grief worked. He’d been ten when his parents were killed. Then he’d simply been grateful that his cousin and he had survived the burning of the Queen’s estate. Only years later had he realized that the kindly uncle who’d taken them in had likely been the one to order the assassination of the then-Queen of Glacia and her Court. He couldn’t prove it, of course. If he could have Karla would have had their uncle executed. 

As it stood Hobart was still alive and now another Queen of Glacia was dead. How many more Queens had to be thrown upon the mercy of that man? Morton wasn’t hot headed enough to demand blood without proof, but he would find proof that Hobart was at least partially responsible for Karla’s death. He wasn’t a child this time. 

The Arcerians had executed the men who’d attacked him at the Gate. Lucivar hadn’t said much about it, but Morton knew what an Arcerian execution was like. Instead of ill he felt grimly satisfied by the prospect. At least that threat was resolved and Eyrien men now guarded the Gate and the surrounding area. He suspected they were as uncomfortable by that as any Glacian son would be to have foreign soldiers in their lands. Kaelaas had command of the area, after all.

Teagan hadn’t mentioned the little girl they’d found with the Arcerians. He likely had other things on his mind. Lucivar had mentioned it, though. Della was her name. She was still bedded down with Kaelaas’s cub but something would need to be done with her eventually. Another trouble for another day. 

He was cloistered away in the chambers that had been his since the first summer he’d spent at the Hall. Karla had backed their uncle into a corner with the kind of ferocious joy he hadn’t seen in her in months. Jaenelle was back, she’d said. Nothing would stop Karla from seeing her best friend. Despite being only fifteen she had been a sight to behold. Morton had become aware of the unspoken promise that the people of Glacia held in their hearts. True sons and daughters of Glacia waited for Karla to come of age, to become Queen as her mother had. 

Asta had been Queen of Glacia when they were teenagers. She was light Jeweled and basically powerless with the might of the male council against her. She ruled only in name; she knew it as well as Morton had. Still, Morton had liked her well enough. She was sweet tempered and she did what she could do to keep the worst of the taint at bay. It was no surprise that she’d been found in her bed with her throat slit that summer they’d stayed at the Hall. He’d kept that news from Karla, not wanting to color her mood, but Jaenelle had known. He remembered that night in her garden. Her hands muddy. Her face stony. “Someday I want to stop planting witchblood, Warlord.” 

Wordlessly, he’d knelt beside her. They’d worked in silence. 

Karla had known the next morning. She’d tried to hide it, but she’d never been a great actress. She’d picked a fight with Aaron just to have a release of her temper and landed all of them extra time on the practice field that day. 

Morton was never going to see her again. His stomach churned. She’d been his Queen since she was born. From the moment his father had lifted him up so he could see over the edge of the bassinet so he could see his baby cousin. He was almost two years older than her. 16 months to the day. He didn’t remember a time before her. He could hardly imagine a life after her.

A knock at the door. He felt the tentative brush of mind to mind. Weary, he rose and walked the miles and miles from the little oak desk in the corner of the sitting room to the door that opened into the Court’s wing. He opened it.  
Wilhelmina Benedict. She was pale, but to her credit her face was dry and her hands were folded calmly before her. “Lady,” he greeted. His tone was formal and her face crinkled in a combination of hurt and temper. 

“Morton-” she began, but he shook his head and she stopped. She licked her lips and schooled her expression. “I’m sorry about Karla. I know how much she meant to you.” Her tone was measured and formal. He knew Wilhelmina had grown up in a home where emotions were a weapon that could be wielded by any hand. That she was so good at hiding hers was no surprise to him. Still, he could see the subtle signs of her own grief. Wilhelmina hadn’t known Karla well. Her grief was for Morton.

He was tired of condolences, though. It was a new grief every time someone said it. “Thank you,” he said because it was expected of him. He didn’t mean it. He probably never would. 

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ve been worried sick about you.” the words spilled out as if she couldn’t hold them back a moment longer. He knew that hadn’t been what she’d intended to say when she’d opened her mouth. She looked as surprised as he felt. But she set her jaw tight and met his eyes before she went on. “You’ve been at the Hall for more than a day and you couldn’t at least have told me you were alright?” 

“Mina, stop it.” he was too exhausted to have this discussion with her. 

“No, I won’t. I deserve that much at least, don’t I?” She closed her eyes and took a breath to steady herself.. “No one tells me anything. Most of the people here hate me and we haven’t told a soul-”

“Mina!” he snapped. “I can’t have this fight right now. Please, leave me alone.” He stepped away from her, hand still on the door. She colored, casting her eyes down and to the left.

“I’m sorry.” she croaked out. Her eyes wouldn’t be dry much longer, he knew. He’d hurt her. He wanted not to care, but he did. “Excuse me.” she said stiffly as she turned and walked away with a kind of determination to her step. She hated to let people see her cry. She hated showing that much weakness. 

He could have run after her. But he didn’t. 

He returned to his room instead and went back over Teagan’s letter. Tomorrow he would confront Jaenelle again. If she didn’t give him to leave the Hall by then, he would have a decision to make. Defy his Queen for his people or stay here knowing that Glacia was a powder keg and any spark could set it ablaze? 

\- - - 

The following day proved to be a bad day. Jaenelle had gone to the Keep sometime in the night and Saetan had cloistered himself with Daemon and Lucivar in his office. Morton chafed at being excluded from whatever was going on behind that door. He needed information and nothing as slow as the letters he’d been sending and receiving from Teagan.

His Opal Jewel wasn’t strong enough to make the reach to Scelt, but Dea al Mon was close enough that Morton could reach to his limits and find Chaosti. When he was recognized, Chaosti’s Gray Jewel filled the link between them and eased the strain on Morton’s Opal. 

*Brother? Are you well? Uncle Saetan had reported that you were healing, but when we heard nothing from you… we feared.* Chaosti was by nature an animated person. Most would have thought the Dea al Mon were stoic but they were hardly that. A hint feral to the eye of the rest of Kaeleer, but the people were demonstrative with their feelings. It was comforting to feel Chaosti’s concern through their link. The concern from one of his Brothers made something in him unknot. 

*I’m well enough. Healing. The wounds weren’t bad, but the poison… it’s been a drain on me. But the Queen had confined me here… no one will tell me anything. What is going on?* 

Chaosti seemed to tremble in the link. *Terrible things are happening, Brother. Attacks the length and breadth of the Realm. Karla’s death is the worst, of course… but Kalush was attacked as well.* 

Morton inhaled sharply. *Is she-*

*She is well. Aaron arrived in time to protect her and their daughter.* Morton released a relieved breath. He couldn’t imagine them losing another Queen and Morton had always liked Kalush perhaps the best of the Coven, save Karla and Jaenelle. Kalush was sweet and kind and they had developed a close friendship based on their mutual love of the theater and historical fiction. They had even considered dating, briefly, though they had quickly realized that their connection was not a romantic one. *The Queens and Warlord Princes of Dea al Mon have proposed closing the borders once more, until the violence subsides.* 

The thought was a chilling one. *Gabriella cannot be considering it?* 

*She is pregnant. Protecting Dea al Mon has become a daunting idea. It may be for the best for the time.* Chaosti didn’t quite sound defensive, but the emotion was similar. Likely a combination of that and the reluctance to abandon his friends to whatever was brewing in the Realm. 

Still, he felt a flush of joy for his dear friends at the news followed by a sick sorrow. They must do what they could to protect their people. If that meant closing the borders… *I hope it doesn’t come to that.* he replied. Silence. *Thank you. This is more information than I’ve had since I was attacked.*

*Good hunting, Brother.* Chaosti replied. A traditional Dea al Mon salutation. 

The link was severed and Morton flooded back into himself. He felt weary from the effort, proving that maybe he wasn’t as healed as he’d originally thought. He couldn’t afford the weakness. He was going to go and see the High Lord. If the Queen wouldn’t see him, the Steward would have to do. 

\- - - 

It wasn’t in his study that the High Lord finally met with him, it was in one of his public work rooms. “Warlord,” came the greeting. It seemed he knew that it wasn’t his uncle he needed to speak to, but the Steward. 

“High Lord.” Morton replied. He stood several paces away from the workbench. He had seen enough Black Widow’s Craft worked in his life to recognize the basics of what was going on. “I’m going back to Glacia. I can’t stay here any longer.” he said simply. 

“Lucivar has spent more time in my Territory than I have since the attacks. It’s my home.” He felt fifteen years old again when the High Lord looked at him. Defiance set in his jaw. 

“The Queen’s order was very clear, Lord Morton.” 

He took a deep breath. “I know.” he replied. 

The High Lord held his gaze for a long moment. Then he seemed to come conclusion. “It’s too late. The Queen’s order has changed. The First Circle is to gather at the Keep to attend upon the Lady’s pleasure.” 

\- - - 

The First Circle of the Dark Court gathered at the Keep. 

Morton felt out of place. No one said anything but it was clear that they all felt Karla’s absence. The hole in the Coven. That bit of ice and tart temper that could set a room at ease or prick at person until they acted. He lingered at the edge of the group gathered in one of the sitting rooms large enough to accommodate them all. He half listened to the Queen’s orders, but the sick cold that settled in the pit of his stomach was enough. 

He didn’t bother to protest her edicts. Even as the others battered at her from every side he stood motionless. He didn’t even bother to look at her. He wasn’t sure he could ever hate her, but for the first time he felt resentment. 

“You will send all of the Queens and Warlord Princes in your Territories to the Keep.” 

Even after she left, that phrase rang in his mind. 

A loophole. He wasn’t a Warlord Prince. Not the spirit of the Queen’s order, but the letter. He risked so much by disobeying her, but was it worth it? It had to be. Teagan’s last letter had described unrest in the streets once more. Whatever had sparked the first uprising had not calmed in the wake of Karla’s death.

He only focused on the conversation when the air around him chilled. His eyes found Daemon Sadi, who was was squared off against Lucivar. There was a long moment of tension that made Morton’s stomach twist. The conflict was tangible. Then Daemon Sadi walked from the room. 

Aaron wondered aloud “What do we really know about Daemon Sadi?”

The murmurs surrounded Morton. He knew nothing about him, really. Karla had said only one thing about him some weeks before her death. She had said it idly, but he’d gotten the impression that it was something she had wanted him to remember.. Daemon Sadi would become an enemy in order to remain a friend. He didn’t know what that meant. He found it hard to care.

\- - - 

Morton had decided what he would do. He would go to Glacia under the guise of needing time to collect the Queens and Warlord Princes. He would speak to the High Lord about it, not daring to try and speak to the Queen. The Queen wasn’t receiving visitors anyway, he thought bitterly. The Coven and the males were whispering about her competency. He’d heard the muttering that she hadn’t been the same since Karla’s death. That maybe it had changed her in some fundamental way. 

Jaenelle disliked hurting people. But she had to see that war was coming whether she wanted it to or not. There was nothing he could do about it now. Jaenelle would do as she wished. That was the right of the Queen. Her will was their lives. They had sworn as much.

One thing needed to be resolved first. He wrote a letter to Wilhelmina, hoping that it would be enough. She deserved more. She deserved peace and a chance at happiness. 

He found the High Lord reading in a corner of the library. Whether he was focusing on the words or simply passing his eyes over the pages, Morton couldn’t say.

“I’m going to Glacia. I need time to gather the Warlord Princes and Queens in the wake of the attacks.” he said without preamble. He hadn’t even given him a moment to set the book aside and remove his half-moon glasses. The High Lord didn’t entirely believe him. He could see that much. 

“Then under my order, go, Warlord.” With the High Lord’s backing, his actions held some measure of validity. He slumped a little in relief. He lingered and his uncle gave him a long look. “Something else?” 

He nodded and handed over the letter he’d written. “Please see this delivered to Wilhelmina.” He tried to keep his tone even and measured.

Saetan took the letter and gave him a long look. “I believe I told you that any relationship was to be cleared through me first, Warlord. That rule has never changed.” he said stiffly. Morton held his gaze, aware that he was in the wrong. He had actively chosen not to inform the Steward of their relationship and knew he would eventually face the consequences of it.

“It’s no secret that she isn’t well liked at the Hall. I wanted to spare her the scrutiny of the Court.” he said by way of explanation. A moment’s pause. “She’s going to need someone when she reads that. I know how you feel… but please be kind to her. Nothing that happened is her fault.” 

Saetan looked back at the letter. “I will do as you ask.” he replied quietly. There was a great deal of emotion in those words and Morton wondered what kind of memory he’d brought to the surface. “Be careful.” Saetan added. “And return when your task is done.” 

“Uncle Saetan…” Morton began. He wanted to ask about Jaenelle but he didn’t know the words to say. So he said nothing. He simply sketched a bow and turned to go. He had nothing to pack. He simply went to one of the Keep’s courtyards and caught the Opal wind headed towards Glacia. He was going home.


End file.
